


Just Lucky I Guess

by Wind_Writes



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Love, OTP Feels, Romance, Yen Takes Care of Geralt, they need eachother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26103121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Writes/pseuds/Wind_Writes
Summary: It was a scent he’d smelled a hundred times before, the memories it brought back playing on a loop through his mind as he lingered in a dark abyss somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 9
Kudos: 35
Collections: Yenralt Week





	Just Lucky I Guess

It hung in the air, the flowery scent tickling his senses and slowing waking him from unconsciousness. It was a scent he’d smelled a hundred times before, the memories it brought back playing on a loop through his mind as he lingered in a dark abyss somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

Beyond the perfume, Geralt’s brain slowly began to register the ache in his muscles and pain that radiated through his abdomen with every breath. The pounding in his head was steady like a drum, thumping with the beat of his heart, and when Geralt tried to move he found that his limbs trembled with exhaustion and that the surface beneath him was soft.

Unsure of where he was or what to do, Geralt strained to pick up any sound that could give away where he’d ended up. The last memory he had was tussling with wyvern that had been harassing local livestock farmers, but the details past that were fuzzy at best. There was no sound of singing birds or scurrying forest creatures, no yells of unruly tavern patrons or songs from minstrels. There was no jingle of tack or snorts from Roach, no sound of clashing iron or stench of dungeon seep; only a steady heartbeat and the lingering smell of lilac and gooseberries.

“Geralt,” a woman whispered, almost musically, and his heart beat heavy against his rib cage at the sound.

She couldn’t be here; it must be a dream, a figment of his imagination. His subconscious was playing a trick on him as his body lay wasting somewhere, waiting for death to claim him, teasing him one last time before the end. Last he heard, she was supposed to be in some high court somewhere, flouncing about with Kings and Queens as she sought a path Geralt was told he wouldn’t understand. Their last parting had been filled with temper and spiteful words and Geralt had prepared himself for a long separation, so it only made sense that his mind was creating things that were not truly there to stave off reality a little longer.

The mattress sunk beside him as soft fingers trailed against his cheek and tried to coax his eyes open, “I know you can hear me, Geralt.”

Geralt groaned and shifted away from her touch. He wanted to drift out of this dream world and back into the darkness the fates had waiting for him, ignore whatever sorcery was bringing her to him, but her persistence wouldn’t let it be.

His lids fluttered for a moment and Geralt growled in annoyance as the world in front of him began to swim. Nausea rolled through his stomach as he tried to focus his amber gaze on the face that hovered just above. 

Yennefer watched as his vision slowly focused on her and color returned to his face. He’d been far too pale for her liking, his complexion waxy beneath the dirt and grime, and there had been more than one occasion that she’d feared he’d passed from this world without her knowing.

“Sleep well?” She teased, relief clouding her features.

Yennefer hadn’t been sure if the information she’d pried out of the sniveling spice trader was completely accurate, it wouldn’t have been the first time she’d been misled in her attempts to locate the Witcher, but when she’d sauntered into the tavern and found the place abuzz with gossip about the white wolf, she knew she was in the right place.

It had taken days to pinpoint exactly where he’d ventured off to, the location of the monster he’d been hunting varied depending on what drunk she’d coerced, but Yennefer had eventually found him and in the nick of time. He’d been flat out on his back, the monster he slayed only a few feet away, bleeding from some gaping wound at his side and within reach of death’s grasp.

Geralt struggled to sit up, the pain from his injuries catching his breath. “Yen.”

Yennefer hummed in response, her skin warming at the use of her nickname. It had been a long time since she had heard it and Yennefer had almost forgotten how it made her heart flutter when he used it.

Geralt hissed when Yennefer helped prop him against the headboard, the sting of stretching muscles and pulling skin a shock to the Witcher’s healing system. His amber gaze tracked her movement as she rose from the bed and wandered to the table where his sword and pack lay waiting; he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around Yennefer being here. Part of him swore he was still dreaming, but the feel of her hands against him and the warmth of her touch proved otherwise.

“You aren’t really here,” he mumbled, head resting against the wall as we watched her putter about the room.

Amused, Yennefer rifled through things on the table for a moment before turning back to her partner, vial in hand. Though he was perfectly capable of healing on his own, Yennefer figured a little boost would be appreciated. Striding towards the bed, Yennefer offered the vial to Geralt, head cocked as she questioned him. “I’m not?”

“My mind is just playing tricks on me,” he growled.

Amber eyes glued to her, Geralt downed the vial of precarious colored liquid without hesitation, a cough vibrating through his chest as it burned its way down his throat. He wasn’t sure what concoction she’d just given him but the pain and stiffness he had felt seemed to melt away and he was grateful for the reprieve. 

Violet eyes rolled towards the ceiling at his words and Yennefer snorted as she settled back beside him on the bed. He was supposed to be the practical one in this relationship, but at the moment he was acting like her. Intent on ending his ridiculousness, Yennefer brought her lips to his, the contact light at first and quickly deepening when Geralt responded. Losing herself for a moment, she allowed herself to sink into his advance and it wasn’t until his teeth nipped at her bottom lip and his arm snaked around her waist that she sat back, hand pushing against his shoulder to put space between them. “Was that real enough for you?”

Heart racing in his chest, Geralt held steady to the woman beside him, afraid she would disappear before he was ready.

“How’d you know where I’d be?” He asked, hand tightening against her hip for a moment before he reluctantly settled back into position against the wall. Her perfume muddled his mind and Geralt was ready to let himself get lost in it, injuries be damned. 

Tossing her hair over one shoulder, Yennefer shrugged. “Just lucky I guess.”

“It’s never just luck with you,” he countered. Everything Yennefer did was done with purpose and accomplished only with intricate planning.

Yennefer smiled coyly, her finger tracing the frown lines that marred his brow for a moment before dropping her hand back at her side. “Should I have just let you die, then?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t,” he murmured. Their relationship was as tempestuous as the raging sea and there was no telling what the other would do on any given day.

Reaching up, Geralt brought her ebony locks to his nose and breathed deeply, the scent of lilac and gooseberries flooding his system once more and making his head spin. It was a scent that was purely her, one that twisted his gut and made his heart skip a beat. A scent that had burned itself into his memory and one that he was sure he would never tire of.

The two of them held each other’s gaze for a moment, smiles of understanding gracing their features, and Geralt moved to cup Yennefer’s cheek. Calloused thumb grazing against her soft skin, Geralt gave a grunt of satisfaction when he was able to entice a purr of enjoyment from the woman who held his heart.

Allowing herself to give in, Yennefer leaned into his touch. She’d missed this; missed the easy humor that flowed when they would allow it, missed his company, and most notably, missed his touch. The longer they were separated the more Yennefer found herself yearning to be beside Geralt, even with his calloused attitude and gruff manner. There was a spark inside her when he was near and Yennefer was beginning to find that she didn’t like herself very much when it wasn’t lit.

“Life would be far too boring if I had,” she teased and it earned a deep chuckle from him in return.

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for Day 2 of Yenralt Week: Lilac and Gooseberries. A fluffy little ficlet because who doesn't love a little Yen and Geralt fluff


End file.
